Waking Up
by fragilebirds
Summary: "Looking at her is like waking up." My take on Divergent from Four's point of view. Rated T just to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

**It's what it says: Divergent from Tobias's point of view. I had wrote one of these before and it got deleted so think of this as a rewrite of sorts. Hope you enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent or it's plot line or characters that all belongs to Ms. Veronica Roth**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 1<strong>_

_I raised my hand, blood dripping from it. I had cut too deep- the knife had stung more than it was intended to. I walked forward, trying to ignore the trembling in my feet. Keeping my eyes on my father's face, I raised my hand, blood sizzling faintly on the warm coals..._

"Wake up, Four!"

A sharp sound jolts me from my dreams. Slowly I turn my head, the last whispers of the dream slipping away from me. Bright red light harshly floods my eyes and I have to blink several times for them to clear. Dazed, I read the time. 8:25.

Realization hits me then. It's Choosing Day. The initiates will be arriving in less than an hour, and I have to be there to meet them. Jumping to my feet, I kick my quilt aside, shuffling to the bathroom with bleary eyes. Knowing I didn't have enough time to properly shower and shave I turn the knob of the tap, splashing cold water on my face. Today it it crucial that I am on my best game, and that can't happen if I am half asleep. I will be being watched closely, and not just by my herd of initiates.

Wrestling into a shirt draped over my counter, I jog to the door. Throwing it open, I came face to face with Lauren. Her dark hair hags loose, swishing against her shoulders. She gives me a dry smile.

"Finally awake, sleeping beauty?"

"Shut up," I snap, but my heart wasn't in it. She laughs, setting off ahead of me into the dimly lit tunnel. We emerge into the Pit- which is already busy with a bustle of black and wildly dyed hair. Unlike this time during every other morning, nearly everyone in the faction is up and on their feet, busy preparing for the new arrivals.

I wonder briefly how many we would get. Last year had been a bit of a low, where as my year had seen an increase in number. All the same it doesn't matter. The final pool would be the same number anyways. Those who didn't make it would be cast out to live with the Factionless.

That is just another thing on the pile of things I dislike about this Faction. As Lauren leads the way to the net I turn my most recent strategy over in my head. _Just wait until this set of initiates are done and you can leave. Set out and never look back. Give up on this corrupt system. _I had been planning to leave Dauntless for a while now and recently the thought had begun to grow more and more appeal. But when I had been nominated to supervise and train the new set of initiates I knew I couldn't back down and so I had agreed, meanwhile promising to myself that as soon as those final rankings flashed on the screen I would be on the train and headed for a new life, one of the unknown.

One that would be safe.

When we arrive at the net a small crowd was already gathered. I made my way to a pair of people standing a little ways to the side, laughing and joking and prodding. This was one of the things I _did_ love about my Faction however. They filled the silence with their noise. Made it harder to dwell on things. Harder to get lost in your own mind.

Sometimes that was exactly what I needed. Being in Dauntless gave it to me.

"Ready to scare the crap out of some little punks?" A boy with dark hair and laughing eyes smacks me playfully on the shoulder. I return the hit, giving him a shallow grin. Zeke, my best friend. We'd met when we were initiates together and had been buddies ever since.

"You know it," I raise my eyes, looking at the yawning hole above us. I remembered my own plunge from it. It had scared me worse than anything, but at the end it had been bearable. Not pleasant, but bearable.

Shauna snorts, crossing her arms. "Poor buggers won't know what's hit them when they get off the train."

"_If _they get off the train," Zeke waggles his eyebrows darkly, causing Shauna to give him a rough shove. He laughs, easily shoving her to the side. Shauna lets her eyes flick over me, looking - hoping - for something to be reflected in them. I recognize the familiar flash of annoyance and disappointment seconds after. During our initiation, when we'd been scared transfers just looking to fit in, I had offered Shauna help, allying myself with her. We had practiced fighting during the night. Or rather I had. She had read too much into the private sessions, assuming I had developed feelings for her as she had for me._  
><em>

I hadn't, and the feelings still weren't there. Why she hadn't grasped that was beyond me. Some things, girls especially, were too confusing. Best just to avoid them unless you absolutely had to be near them I thought.

A loud noise interrupts my thoughts. We all turn, a sea of dark. A man stands on the net, his greasy hair parted to show all his piercings. My blood boils. Eric. The man I hate more than anyone.

"Attention, Dauntless! The initiates have made their choices and are currently about five minutes away. Anyone willing to catch them please make your way to the net."

Since I volunteered to instruct, I have no choice. I settle into a stance beside the net, eyes gazing up into the shaft of light. I remember jumping on my first day. Not something I like to remember.

It seems like only minutes later Max's voice drifts down to us. They're here. My pulse beats a little quicker. I wonder who will leap first as I tap my feet against the platform.

A small shape hits the net, breath leaving it in a gasp. I pick out a flash of grey and my stomach tightens. _A Stiff? _

The small girl laughs, and the sound is on the border of being hysterical. Reflexively I stretch out my hand. She takes it and I get a glimpse of her. She is plain. Nothing special, nothing extraordinairy. The opposite of the girls I used to stare at. Except for her eyes.

They are pale blue, filled with knowledge and determination. They are beautiful.

Clearing my thoughts I help her to her feet. My hands grip her arms and she briefly looks me over. Her hair is blonde, standard Abnegation cut. Something about her is familiar.

"Thank you," she says. Her voice is low for her a girl, but nice. Pleasant.

"Can't believe it," the voice belongs to Lauren. The Stiff girl looks at her, taking in her pierced eyebrow no doubt. Lauren smirks at her. "A Stiff, the first to jump? Unheard of."

"There's a reason why she left them Lauren," I mumble. "What's your name?"

"Um..." she hesitates. I know what she is thinking. I myself didn't want to give my real name. Didn't want people to know who I really was.

"Think about it," I say, a faint smile curling my lips. "You don't get to pick again.

"Tris," she states firmly.

Lauren grins. "Tris," she repeats. "Make the announcement Four."

I look over my shoulder at the waiting crowd. "First jumper- Tris!"

They step forward into the light, cheering and pumping their firsts. Welcoming her. Moments later another person drops into the net. Her screams follow her all the way down, and everyone laughs. Soon enough the cheering picks up.

I rest my hand on Tris's back. "Welcome to Dauntless."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

When all the initiates are on solid ground, Lauren and I lead them up a narrow tunnel branching off the net. We stop, and I resist the urge to laugh as a few transfers bump into one another, disoriented in the dark. "This is where we divide," Lauren states. "The Dauntless-born initiates are with me. I assume _you_ don't need a tour of the place." She smiles, beckoning them forward. They peel themselves from the crowd, walking to her and breaking away from the crowd of transfers.

Then they're gone and I look at what's left. There are not many - most of the initiates were Dauntless born. Most are from Erudite and Candor. But my eyes seem to keep returning to the Abnegation girl. I don't know why, and it unnerves me.

"Most of the time I work in the control room," I address them, "but for the next few weeks I am your instructor. My name is Four."

One of the Candor transfers look set me. It's the girl. I don't remember her name. "Four? Like the number?" She asks in disbelief. I don't feel like explaining to her my entire backstory. How when I transferred here I took my simulation test immediately and discovered I only had four fears, thus landing myself the nickname Four.

"Yes," I say. "Is there a problem?"

"No." She answers simply, but I know better. Candor's always have something to say. Surely she's not done.

"Good. We're about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It -"

Sure enough, she cuts me off, snickering. "The Pit? Clever name."

Sometimes a healthy dose of fear is the best medicine. I walk up to the girl, leaning my face close to hers. For a moment I simply stare at her.

"What's your name?" I ask quietly.

"Christina," she squeaks, sounding afraid.

"Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smart-mouths, I would have joined their faction. The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut," I hiss. "Got that?"

She nods.

Turning on my heel I start towards the end of the tunnel. The crowd of initiates stumbles after themselves to keep up with me. Behind me, I can hear Christina mumble to Tris, calling me a jerk. "I guess he doesn't like to be laughed at," she replies softly.

She's very right. I stop at a set of double doors, pushing them open. We walk into the Pit, and I let it's full effect sink in. Behind me Christina exclaims. "Oh. I get it."

The Pit really is the best way to describe it. It's a towering underground cavern, made of uneven rock walls that tower up several stories. There's places for clothing, food, and supplies carved into the walls, along with steps and narrow paths to connect them all. In true Dauntless fashion there are no rails to keep people from falling. And high above is the building topping the Pit, sunlight coming through in shades of orange. When you get used to it it's actually quite pretty.

I let the transfers look around a minute longer then clear my throat. "If you follow me, I'll show you the chasm." I wave them forward, indicating they should follow me. I lead them to the right side of the Pit, where the railing blocks off the roaring water I know rests below. Tris looks over the side and I watch the color drain from her cheeks. Inside the Chasm water roars, sloshing violently against the rocks and churning it's way through its course.

"The Chasm reminds us that there is a fine line between bravery and idiocy!" I yell, trying to make my voice heard over the sound of the water. "A daredevil jump off this ledge will end your life. It has happened before and it will happen again. You've been warned." My mind swirls with memories, of a lifeless body fished from the rocks the year I transferred. Of the cries of those who knew the boy personally. How we'd been reminded yet again the danger of the Chasm.

If you ask me it's a very cowardly way out.

"This is incredible!" The Candor girl, Christina, whispers to Tris. I resist the urge to look over my shoulder and see their reactions.

"Incredible is the word." Tris murmurs, and then she's quiet.

I keep walking, leading them down the path I've walked hundreds of time since transferring. The room is well-lit, unlike the majority of the Pit, and I blink gratefully as we step inside. As soon as I'm spotted the clattering of silverware stops, the Dauntless stand. It's like an explosion. Their applauding is like thunder, accompanied with booming stamps and loud yelling.

Leaving the initiates, I walk towards an empty table along the far wall, looking longingly at my old spot with my friends. They shrug, wearing amused looks as I walk past them. Sliding into an empty chair I reach for a hamburger, already exhausted with the day.

The chair next to me slides out, a small figure dropping into the seat. I look up, watching as she pinches one of the burger patties between her finger. She's unsure.

I nudge her with my elbow, her pale eyes switching to me. "It's beef." I say, sliding the bowl of ketchup towards her. "Put this on it."

Christina, who's already begun to dig in, looks up. "You've never had a hamburger before?"

"No," Tris says, "is that what it's called?"

"Stiffs eat plain food," I say to Christina, remembering my own first meal here. It was a pizza and I'd had no idea what the weird dough and cheese blend was. After the other transfers had stopped laughing at me they'd shown me how to eat it, but it didn't stop my embarrassment.

"Why?" She asks, looking to Tris.

She shrugs. "Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary."

"No wonder you left."

"Yeah, it was just because of the food." Tris rolls her eyes, and I feel the corner of my mouth twitch as I fight off a smile. Just then, the door opens, and a hush falls over the room. Dread pulses through the pit of my stomach as I set my dinner down.

A young man strolls in, and every step of his heavy combat boots is audible. I drop my gaze and pretend to be interested in my burger. "Who's that?" Christina hisses, her brown eyes narrowed.

"His name is Eric," I say. "He's a Dauntless leader."

"Seriously? But he's so young."

A dry laugh dies in my throat. "Age doesn't matter here."

Eric, having spotted what he's looking for, begins to close in on our table. He slowly slides into the seat on my left, not offering a greeting. I firmly lock my jaw, avoiding the rage I want to express.

"Well? Aren't you going to introduce me?" Eric speaks, his slow voice making me feel sick.

"This is Tris and Christina," I say, voice flat. His heavily pierced eyebrows raise.

"Ooo, a Stiff." He smirks at Tris, his god awful lip piercings gaping widely. "We'll see how long you last."

Tris doesn't answer, and neither do I. Annoyed, Eric begins to drum his fingers along the table. They're scabbed from one of his latest fights, and judging by the coloring whoever he fought is in a far worse state than he. "What have you been doing lately Four?"

"Nothing really," I answer nonchalantly, shrugging a shoulder.

Tris is staring, and I feel uncomfortable. Has she guessed how much we hate each other yet?

Eric continues, unfazed. "Max tells me he keeps trying to meet with you and you don't show up." He says. "He requested that I find out what's going on with you."

I look at Eric for a few seconds. "Tell him that I am satisfied with the position I currently hold."

"So he wants to give you a job?"

"So it would seem," I say slowly, noticing how Eric's eyebrow rings catch the light when he raises them.

"And you aren't interested?"

"I haven't been interested for two years."

"Well," Eric says at last. "Let's hope he gets the point then." He gets up then, clapping me on the shoulder roughly. I resist the urge to recoil from his touch.

As soon as he's out of earshot Tris pipes up. "Are you two...friends?"

"We were in the same initiate class. He transferred from Erudite." I remember the sour looking boy from the initiate class, un-pierced and too tidy. He hid his savagery under his sharp tongue. Only one person had been able to best him - me. And he'd never forgotten it.

"Were you a transfer too?" Tris asks, no longer cautious.

I freeze up, ignoring her question. If I say too much, if I say just one wrong thing, she might catch on to who I really am. I don't want that. "I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions." I say coldly. "Now I've got Stiffs too?"

"It must be because you're so approachable." She retorts dryly. "You know, like a bed of nails."

Her eyes meet mine and this time I don't drop them. She holds my gaze, eyes piercing my darker ones. I watch as blood begins to rush to her cheeks, a strange desire twisting in my body. But I don't do it.

"Careful, Tris," I warn at last, and then drop her gaze. Zeke calls to me and I rise, leaving the table behind. All night I'm unable to concentrate on my friends and I'm unsure why. Tris has unsettled me, and I don't like it.

i can't afford to be unsettled. Not here.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the short update I'm having trouble with my laptop. I'm horribly inconsistent with this fic but I hope you all enjoy it. Consider this a (not very good) Christmas present from me to you all. Keep reading and reviewing!**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

><p>The next morning I feel as if I've been dragged along behind the train for miles on end; my whole body is sore and my head is pounding viciously. I have no choice but to wake up and push myself through my usual routine. Get up, get washed, get dressed. Make my way to the dining room and eat a light breakfast. Usually at this point I would leave to the computer room where I usually worked, but not today.<p>

Today I have to get the initiates.

They don't look pleased to see me, most rubbing at puffy eyes or trying to smooth hair that's been disturbed by sleep. I lead them silently to the training room, instructing them to line up as I make my way to the storage bins in the back. The room has mostly been set up over night but it is still missing one important aspect. The guns.

"The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun," I begin, distributing the guns to the bemused kids in front of me. "The second thing is how to win a fight." I press

Tris's gun into her palm without looking at her. I haven't forgotten the feeling she stirred in me last night. I can't afford to let it happen again. "Thankfully, if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that."

"Initiation is divided into three stages." I continue, handing out the last of the guns. "We will measure your progress and rank you according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time." It had happened in my year - I'd been a scrawny kid from Abnegation who'd been hit one too many times to consider actually hurting someone else intentionally. I had gotten better over time but it'd taken a while. The simulations had been my real savior.

"We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as failure to act in the midst of fear. Therefore each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way." I pace along the line of initiates who are hanging on to my every word. Well, most of them are. The arrogant boy I believe is from Candor is talking to another one of the male transfers, seeming bored with my spiel.

I stop, eyeing them with what I hope is an intimidating expression. "The first is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third primarily mental."

The arrogant boy looks up. "But what..." He yawns, interrupting himself and making his words thick. "What does firing a gun have to do with...bravery?"

I flip the gun in my hand, pressing the barrel to his forehead. Without thinking I slide a bullet into place. He freezes, lips parted in shock, yawn long dead.

"Wake. Up." I snap. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it." I lower the gun, watching the fear fade from his green eyes and deciding that I truly don't like this boy. "And to answer your question - you are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you're prepared to defend yourself."

I turn on my heel, making my way back down the row. "This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch me." I face the wall with the targets. Instinct washes over me as I plant my feet apart, gripping the gun comfortably in both my hands. With a steady exhale I let the bullet fly, and it sinks deep into the centre of the bulls eye.

Drawing away I move toward the far wall, crossing my arms as I watch the initiates attempt to copy what I just demonstrated, trying to make it seem like I'm dividing my attention equally between the tributes. Eric is not here but it never pays to be too careful. Tris is talking to the Erudite boy beside her, who was gotten the hang of shooting fairly well. I guess it pay off to be a bookworm in some ways after all.

Tris, however, hasn't managed to fit the target. I tilt my head to the side, watching as she says something to the smart-talking Erudite boy. I know from experience that learning things like this doesn't come easy. Then, as if she's been doing it her full life, she raises the gun and sinks a bullet into the centre of the target. Pride surges through me.

Not long later I realize it's time to break for lunch. "Initiates!" I call, walking towards them briskly, "we're breaking for lunch! Make your way to the cafeteria and be back here in time for your next session." I linger as they begin to file out, pretending to be interested in moving the targets. In reality I'm watching Tris. She's with her Candor friend again, quiet but clearly bursting with pride in herself at mastering the gun in such a short time. I'm proud of her too.

Maybe it's just because you're from Abnegation as well, I muse as I follow the last of the transfers to the cafeteria.

Or maybe it's not.


End file.
